The Drabble Series
by Terminally Introverted
Summary: This is a collection of very short drabbles taken from my Tumblr. From fluff to angst and everything in between, you can find it here. Pairings include Gerita, Spamano, PruCan, Rochu, and others as time goes on.
1. Awesome Anonymous- PruCan

**Summary: Matthew loves his Tumblr, he just hates the anon hate. Written for my friend who was being harassed online.**

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><p>Matthew never knew what he did to deserve it. He had tried on many occasions to figure it out, to go through his posts and try to find the straw that had broke the camel's back, but he never could. For the love of God, all he did was post hockey pictures. He had posted pictures of himself maybe twice, and since it started, he had taken those down. He simply could not figure out what would make strangers online had him as much as they apparently did.<p>

He knew this was ridiculous, he knew it probably should not bother him, and he knew there were far, far bigger problems in the world, but somehow, that did not stop the messages from hitting like stabs to the gut. They ranged from as juvenile and simple as _'you suck,' _which Matthew could actually laugh at, to things as insidious as _'you disgust me. You're pathetic.' _Those hurt, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that they didn't.

Still, Matthew did not deactivate his tumblr. He did not even turn off anonymous messages, because occasionally, anonymous messages were nothing but kind. He had made friends on this website- a shy girl from Ukraine, a guy who ran an ice cream blog from Cuba- and he was not willing to give that up. Most days were fine. But when his inbox showed an influx of messages that ranged from uncreative taunts to things that bordered on being threats, he could not stop them from getting to him. He could not stop them from ruining his day, from sending him into a spiral of vulnerability and occasionally, self-loathing.

Today was one of those days.

Matthew was never sure what he did, but today, he was _truly _lost. This person was claiming that he took something from them, that he did something that supposedly ruined their life. At first, Matthew was nothing if not confused. Part of him was even amused. Surely, this was a prank. Then, just when he was about to go back to his homework, he got another message.

"_You're a waste of space, you know that? Just kill yourself. No one would even miss you." _

For what felt like about an eternity and a half, Matthew just stared at the screen. He tried to convince himself that this was nothing, just a silly teenager with too much time on their hands and a dark, sick sense of humor. He almost let himself believe that it didn't bother him. But in the end, he couldn't. He couldn't even exit the page. All he could do was stare, his stomach turning cold and sinking to his feet, wondering once again what in the hellhe ever did to these people. Usually, he simply deleted these. This time, he could not stop himself from typing out a response. His fingers trembled over the keys when he did so.

_What did I do? I'm sorry…_

After he hit _answer, _he noticed he was crying. Of course he was crying; it was just like him to cry over something this meaningless and petty. Matthew swallowed though his throat felt dry and closed, shut his eyes to block out the room that was spinning around him. _What did I do? _The words beat into his head like falling hail and the air suddenly turned to hot tar. Maybe he had done something. Maybe simply existing was enough to merit such a statement. Of course, how had he not thought of that before? His existence was the problem. It always was. That was why everyone always loved Alfred more, that was why no one at school even knew his name; that was why…

The sound of another message landing in his inbox caused Matthew's eyes to open. He bit down on his lip, hard. God, what could it be this time? Without even thinking about, he opened it. The first thing that surprised him was that this was not an anonymous message. It was not from any of his Internet friends, either. He had never seen this username before: _my-five-meters. _The icon was a small yellow bird.

'_Mein Gott, who the hell is sending you this shit? These people really don't have lives, do they? Not awesome. Look, kid, your blog is great. Fuck them.' _

Matthew had to smile, though he was not entirely sure why. Maybe it was the ridiculous username, maybe it was the crudeness of the message, and maybe it was the cute icon that offset it all. No matter the cause, he felt the grip around his lungs release and the dizzying sensation in his head diminish. With hands that now felt steadier, he typed out an answer.

'_Awe, thank you! I don't know why they hate me so much, really.' _

Once the answer was posted, Matthew came to the conclusion that was probably the end up of it. Some stranger had insulted him; another stranger had backed him up. What more could there be to it? He almost closed the lid of his laptop when another message popped up.

'_Well, might as well say this now since I have your attention. I wish you would post more pictures of yourself. You're cute. ;)' _

This caused Matthew to freeze for an entirely different reason. The temperature in his bedroom seemed to just about double, at least three different shades of red passed over his cheeks and for a moment he nearly forgot to continue breathing. Okay, so maybe this was ridiculous too. If a stranger insulting him should mean nothing, then a stranger complimenting him should be just as menial. Somehow, neither of those statements was true. Both of things meant something. Matthew much preferred the latter. With an embarrassing smile on his face, he responded.

'_Wow, thanks! I can't say I've been told that before.' _Matthew hesitated, wondering if his answer sounded pitiful, but he posted it anyway. After all, beyond the occasional off-color comment from his cousin Francis, the statement was true.

Now that homework was the absolute last thing on his mind, Matthew clicked on this person's blog- titled _'Prussians Do it Better!' _Strange. Oh well. With just a bit of scrolling, he concluded that this blog had no specific purpose. It ranged from pictures of birds much like the one in his icon to humor to historical facts- mainly about, of course, Prussia. Matthew had to smirk. What an interesting person. He continued to scroll, only half paying attention until he saw something that absolutely demanded to be seen. White hair. Eyes that looked red in the light. A grin that seemed perpetual.

Though Matthew could have easily said to himself that he had never seen someone who looked like this, he knew he had. He was not sure _where, _however. Before he had time to think about it any longer, he noticed he had another message.

'_You've probably never been told that because you never leave your room.' _

Matthew barely had time to read, much less understand the first message before he got the second one.

'_Blame Francis. He gave me the URL.' _

Again, Matthew could only stare. Again, another messages popped up before he could.

'_For the love of Christ kid I work at the music store literally five minutes from your house just cOME VISIT SO I DON'T HAVE TO STALK YOU ON THIS DAMN HIPSTER WEBSITE ANYMORE.' _

Gilbert. This was Francis's friend Gilbert, the very same he had seen a few times but never had the courage to talk to. Matthew froze again, then smiled, closed his laptop and left the room. The anonymous messages could wait. Right now, he had to choose between killing his cousin and praising the ground he walked on. No… that could wait. Right now, he had to go buy a CD.

Matthew was not sure what he did to deserve this, either. This time, it hardly bothered him.


	2. Perks of (Not) Being a Wallflower-DenNor

**This was a request triggered by a prompt list I posted on tumblr. The pairing I was given was DenNor, with the ****prompt word 'dance.**'

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><p>Lukas didn't know why he had even bothered leaving the house. Agreeing to attend homecoming was quite possibly the worst decision he had ever made in his life. He could not even be sure what was worse- the piles of teenagers that looked to be attempting to have sex through their clothes, the pounding, incessant 'music' that blasted through the speakers, or <em>him. <em>

While Lukas had made himself quite comfortable leaning against a wall, Mathias was always the center of attention at these things. Currently, he was in the center of the floor attempting some terrifying dance that resembled a seizure, yet those around he seemed to love it. Lukas rolled his eyes. Mathias was loud. He was obnoxious. He was popular. He was the epitome of a douche bag, and oh god why was he coming this way?

"You look bored."

How -or more importantly, _why-_ Mathias had managed to pull away from the crowd and make his way over to Lukas so quickly, Lukas would probably never be certain. "What do you care?"

"Hey, no need to be so snippy! I just wanted to check on my dear friend."

Lukas narrowed his eyes. "I barely know you."

Mathias gasped and brought his hand to his chest in mock horror. "We have a class together!"

"Yeah. One."

"I thought we had two! English, and _chemistry._" Mathias wagged his eyebrows in a way he probably thought was seductive.

"If that was supposed to be a pick-up line, it was the worst I've ever heard."

Mathias laughed. Lukas could smell the alcohol on his breath, likely a result of whatever pre-dance disaster he had attended prior to arriving. The flashing, colorful lights reflected on his hair, that was currently teased into the most ridiculous and annoying attractive spiked style Lukas had ever seen. "Whatever," he said. "Anyway, you wanna dance?"

Lukas threw him a blank stare. "You're kidding."

"Nope. Like I said, you look bored. And frankly babe, you look too good to be standing around."

"Call me babe one more time and I'll knock your teeth out." Lukas glared at Mathias only to notice that neither his strong gaze nor his wild smile had diminished. How annoying. Lukas glanced side-to-side, making sure his little brother wasn't around to witness this atrocity. Before he could even stop himself, he mumbled, "What the hell," and regretted it almost immediately.

"Hell yes!" Mathias snapped Lukas's hand and dragged him to the middle of the gyrating, sweaty mass of students.

Lukas was not sure why he let it happen. He could have slapped the nauseating Dane across the face and went back to fading into the shadows, but for whatever reason, he didn't object when Mathias subjected him to what he called 'dancing.' While the bass line pounded beneath their feet, Mathias grabbed Lukas by the hips and pulled him close, too close. Mathias's hips kept in perfect time with the beat like he was born to do it while Lukas tried to do the same, his skin burning, his mind whirring and his face completely blank.

This was already a disaster, so half-way through the song Lukas came to a ridiculous and, to some extent, entertaining decision. He would tease him. In what he hoped was one graceful movement, he turned around and draped his arms and Mathias's neck. His confidence growing he let his movements be controlled by the pulsing tempo of the song under Mathias's strong hold. He met Mathias's startled gaze and simply raised an eyebrow, a dare.

Mathias took it. He brought his hands behind Lukas's back and let them wander, lower, pulling him closer, until Lukas realized his plan had completely backfired. His face was far too hot and flushed for his liking, his skin buzzed with too much electricity, and dammit, he was not supposed to be enjoying this.

Fuck it.

Since their faces were mere inches from each other, Lukas figured he might as well. Still while Mathias rocked side-to-side, pushing against him far too aggressively, Lukas gave him the kiss of his goddamn life.

"I hate you," said Lukas when he pulled away, breathless, his mind having clouded over some time ago.

Mathias was almost panting, but he smirked anyway. "I know." He wove his finger through Lukas's belt loop and pulled as if it was humanly possible to get any closer. "Leave with me."

Did Lukas even have a choice? "Fine."


	3. The Bar- Gerita

**This Drabble is deprived from a prompt list on tumblr. I received Gerita, with the priompt: Send me a "Stop" and I'll write a drabble about one character calming the other down (from anger, jealously, etc)**

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><p>Feliciano was not sure what terrified him more: the guys who cat called him when Ludwig went to the bathroom for five minutes, or the way Ludwig had reacted when he came back.<p>

The bar, in appearance, was not a sleazy one. It was well lit, they had a liquor license, and it was clean. Because of this, Feliciano had no problem going in with Ludwig for a few drinks one Saturday night. He thought nothing of it when Ludwig left him alone when he excused himself to use the restroom.

Then, before Feliciano could even register anyone was looking at him, the leering started. From that stemmed the comments. By this time, Feliciano was beginning to feel uncomfortable. He did not panic, however, until one of them came up and tried to kiss him. The barkeep was nowhere to be seen, and for whatever reason, no one else was noticing this.

So Feliciano screamed.

The next couple of minutes seemed to pass in a blur of noise and confusion. Ludwig emerged from nowhere, screaming things that could not be understood, his face red and his eyes wild. Even though Feliciano wouldn't doubt that Ludwig could take three guys at once, it was still surreal to actually see it happen. Before Feliciano even had time to get over the uninvited advances, the strange man, as well as his two friends, were on the floor.

And before he had time to get over that, he and Ludwig were outside of the bar. Ludwig was no calmer.

"I cannot BELIEVE the way people behave these days! They have absolutely no respect!" Ludwig paced in circles in the alleyway they were now standing in. Occasionally, he threw his arms up in a dramatic display of both rage and incredulity. "Are you sure you're alright, Feliciano?"

This was probably the tenth time he asked that same question. Feliciano was just fine now, if not a bit worried for Ludwig's health. "I-"

Only he could not finish. "Mein Gott, they really are lucky I was thrown out. I could have killed that man, Feliciano! I wanted to!"

Feliciano hardly doubted either of those statements. "I know, Luddy."

"The way he looked at you, like you were a piece of meat, I just, ARG!" With that, Ludwig attempted to slam his fist into the brick wall. Feliciano was quicker. He caught his arm, forced him to uncurl his fingers, and held his hand gently. The last thing they needed was Ludwig to break his hand.

"Ludwig. It's okay. I'm okay, you're okay, everything is okay. It's over."

Ludwig laughed humorlessly. "It isn't okay!"

"What they did wasn't okay, it was gross, but it happened and it's over." Feliciano released his hand only when he was sure Ludwig wasn't going to hurt himself and instead wrapped his arms around his torso. "It's okay."

Ludwig sighed like a deflating balloon, the redness in his face fading back into a normal color. Slowly, he hugged Feliciano back. "We aren't going back here again."

As if Feliciano wanted to. "I know."

"Next time, we will just drink beer at home."

"Wine," Feliciano corrected. He released his hold on Ludwig, took his hand again, and smiled up at him. "Come on, let's get home to the dogs."

Ludwig smiled at that. "Yes, that sounds like a good idea."

Before they took a step out of the alley, Feliciano said, "Hey, Ludwig?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for protecting me."

Ludwig lifted Feliciano's chin and pressed a swift kiss to his lips. "Always," he said. "I love you, Feliciano."

"Love you too, Ludwig."


	4. A Lesson Learned- Gerita

_This one is based off a silly prompt I got :)_

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><p>Ludwig never thought it would come to this. This was humiliating. This was ridiculous. Yet here he was, standing outside of the dorm room of some kid that called himself "The Italian Stallion." Why he was doing this, he could not even be sure. Maybe Gilbert's teasing about his non-existent love life had finally gotten to him. Maybe he had gone insane. Maybe he was just really, really bored.<p>

No matter the reason, there was no going back now. He had already paid. With a heavy sigh and a blush already beginning to bloom on his cheeks, he knocked on the door, only able to pray that no one was watching. When the door opened, he was taken aback to note he had to look down to see this person. He was not entirely sure what he had expected, but he was fairly certain he had not expected someone so...small. Innocent. "Feliciano?" He said, feeling incredulous.

"Yes! That's me! I think I spoke with you on the phone earlier. Wow, you're tall! Anyway, are you Ludwig?" He somehow managed to say all of it in one breath.

Ludwig blinked. What had he gotten himself into? "...Yes."

"Okay! Come on in, Ludwig!"

Grudgingly accepting that there was really no way out of this, Ludwig nodded and walked inside. The dorm was decorated quite well considering it was inhabited by a college student, the walls spotted with paintings and the clutter minimal. However, Ludwig barely glanced at the decor. He was too busy staring at Feliciano. As well as being at least a head shorter than him, the Italian had messy, auburn hair with one strange, wild curl sticking out of it. His eyes were large and doe-like, and he walked with an internal bounce in his step. He was the last person Ludwig would think accepted money for...well, something like this.

"So what made you decide to call, Ludwig?" asked Feliciano, snapping Ludwig out of his musings. "I mean, you don't really look like you need this. I bet you get tons of pretty girls hitting on you. Or handsome boys. Or both. Would you like a drink?"

It was such an untrue statement that Ludwig could have laughed. Plenty of people hitting on him, right. He was lucky if he met someone that was not instantly afraid of him. Shaking his head as if to clear it, he said, "No, I'm fine." He kept his gaze locked on the floor. "I am not entirely sure why I called, really. This is not something I would usually do."

"Thought so." Feliciano practically skipped to the bed before sitting down on it. "Do you want to start?"

Ludwig suddenly forgot how to use his body. "Um..." Good lord, this was such a terrible idea. "How many people do you...help, Feliciano?"

"Like, one a week, usually," he said with a shrug, as if it was completely normal, as if teaching people how to kiss was just something people did with their spare time. "Ludwig, you look terrified! Come on, I promise I don't bite! Well, unless you want me to, because some people do and it's kind of weird but-"

"I'm fine," said Ludwig just a bit too loudly. He forced himself to move and sat stiffly, awkwardly on the bed. He could only look at Feliciano for a second before quickly turning his head. "How does this work?"

Feliciano giggled. "It would help if you looked at me, Ludwig."

"I...oh." Ludwig turned to face him, throughly humiliated by how red his face already was. At nineteen, his experience was non-existent.

"Okay." Feliciano reached out and took the side of Ludwig's face. Ludwig had to remind himself to continue breathing. "Well, to start, you just lean in slowly like this..." He started to do just that, and Ludwig completely froze. Feliciano paused and smiled, his expression a cross between amusement and outright pity. "Most people close their eyes, Ludwig."

Words having left him, Ludwig closed his eyes, his hands balled into fists and resting at his knees. Before he could even register what was happening, Feliciano was kissing him. Now, he knew Feliciano was supposedly a master at this, but he hardly expected him to be this, well, good. Despite meeting minutes ago, he did it as if they had known each other for decades, loved each other for years. It was strange, the situation was absurd, but in some odd way, it was nice.

As abruptly as it started, it ended. Feliciano pulled away and smiled again. "Ludwig, you're like a statue or something. You need to move." Without warning, he grabbed Ludwig's hands and pulled them to his waist. Ludwig just stared at him, dumbfounded and really wondering why in the hell he ever thought he should do this. "Now, relax."

And before he could respond, it was happening again. Ludwig kept his hands where Feliciano had moved them, and no matter how humiliated and flustered he was, he at least tried to follow the advice he was given. That was why he had came to Feliciano to begin with, after all. He pulled him just a bit closer, titled his head slightly, and allowed himself to move his lips against his. He felt Feliciano smile as if he were pleased, kiss him deeper, and sling his arms around his neck. Ludwig felt heart slam against his ribs. He was fairly certain he should not be enjoying this as much as he was. He had barely kissed anyone before, this was a STRANGER, for the love of god, how indecent could this get...

Feliciano pulled back and looked at Ludwig through lowered lashes. "Now you're getting it."

Ludwig cleared his throat, did not move, did not think. "I...suppose."

"But you need more practice."

"JA, I mean, yes, I mean-"

Feliciano pressed a finger to his lips. "Hush." And without another word, he pulled Ludwig back into the kiss by the collar.

Maybe this was not such a bad idea after all.


	5. Amid The Falling Snow- Giripan

**Stemmed from the prompt: Send me a "Peace" and I'll write a drabble about them spending a quiet moment together.**

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><p>"I cannot believe you talked me into this."<p>

"You were more for this than I was, Kiku." Heracles picked up his hand and ran his thumb over his knuckles, just as slow and lazy as his voice had been all day. His face seemed to glow under the remnants of light that seeped in through the blankets, reflected off the green of his eyes. "Besides, we have nowhere to go."

Kiku supposed he was right. Last night's snowfall had blocked their doors, covered their windows, and eventually led them here- the living room floor, with nearly every pillow they owned beneath them and every blanket stretched over their heads. "Still." The word dissolved in a whisper. "It seems a little silly. We will have to clean all this up later."

"So?" Heracles ghosted over his lips, then looked at him through half-lidded eyes. That in itself stopped Kiku's complaints, made every worry irrelevant. "We have all day." Heracles hovered over him, made him feel safe. "We have our entire lives."

If it had been anyone else, Kiku would have dismissed such a statement as silliness. But because it was Heracles, it struck deep- deep enough to pierce his heart and send an ache through his chest. "You say the strangest things," he said, as quiet and soft as the snow outside. For a fleeting moment Kiku wished it would snow for years, enough the shroud the rest of their lives and keep them here for an ice age.

"Better strange than dull, kitten." Kiku blushed at the silly nickname, his cheeks only darkening further when Heracles nipped at his ear. Sometimes he wondered if the man secretly was a cat, just like the seven currently laying around them in various stages of slumber. He continued this feline-esque behavior, nibbling and nuzzling at Kiku's neck until he won his little game and received his prize- Kiku's laugh. Obviously satisfied, Heracles tucked his face into Kiku's shoulder and collapsed against him.

"You are heavy," said Kiku, a strain of laughter still lingering in his voice. Heracles shrugged lazily in response. Kiku resigned to the senselessness of it all, rested his hands on Heracles's back and sighed. As he stared at the myriad of blankets above him, he wondered how it had gotten to be this way, how he had grown so comfortable in his touch, what crucial decision put him on this path. He wondered how he had found his happiness. He wondered why it resided with a man who lived in white t-shirts and slept more than humanly possible and recited paragraphs of Aristotle with ease. He wondered how long they would stay exactly like this. He hoped the answer was _forever_.

"I apologize." Heracles rolled off, allowing the air to return to Kiku's lungs. He could not say he was not disappointed, though. He was rather cold now. But Heracles must have sensed his discontent just like he seemed to sense everything. He pulled Kiku close, yanked a blanket from the makeshift ceiling and draped it over both of them. "We can't have you crushed." He was whispering again. Kiku's heart nearly burst again.

"We certainly cannot." Kiku took Heracles's hand again and studied the grooves in his palms, one of the cats laid next to his chest, a soft gust of wind howled from the other side of their little alcove. It was a familiar, welcome, comfortable silence. "Are you falling asleep again, Heracles?" said Kiku after a few moments had passed. It would be the third time that day. He felt Heracles nod, felt his grip tighten. Heracles always got so touchy when he was sleepy. Heracles was always sleepy. "Are you incapable of staying awake for an hour?" Another nod. Kiku let out a soft breath as he turned to face him, ran a careful hand down his cheek, pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "So strange..."

"You're the one who fell for me," mumbled Heracles, half asleep.

"Yes," Kiku laid his head against his chest, suddenly feeling rather sleepy himself. The steady beat of his heart acted as a lullaby. "I certainly am."


	6. A Beautiful Sin- TurkEgy

**Spawned from the prompt, "Things you said with no space between us."**

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><p>"They say this is a sin." Sadiq lets the words pass his lips before he thought about them, before he acknowledges their existence in his head. They are not his own. They are the words of men much older than he, of zealots, of those who did not understand. Perhaps Sadiq does not understand either.<p>

But Gupta always understood. "Many things are a sin." The warm light filtering through the red curtains casts shadows over his face, over his sharp features and softened gaze. His fingers are like wind on Sadiq's bare chest. "Over the years, I have learned some are worth it."

Fear continues to thrum through Sadiq's blood, fear like flames that were soothed by Gupta's lips on his shoulder and his weight against his lap. Sadiq continues to speak someone else's words even as he slips Gupta's robes down his shoulders. "We will be killed if someone finds out."

"Then do not tell." Gupta exhales in what was almost a laugh. Sadiq can feel his chest rise and fall against his own. They are close now, closer than Sadiq had ever dared dream, barely space for air between them. "Sometimes, Sadiq, you speak too much."

Perhaps he does. Sadiq has many thoughts in his head, the majority too complex or humbling to say. Much of what he does say ends up as nonsense. He wants to say many things in this moment, poetry-like speeches and sonnets about how his whole world spins back on this breathtaking, unreal Egyptian, a man worth any sin or stone. If he were found, Sadiq would not mind. As long as none scathe Gupta. He would gladly burn before he allowed Gupta to be scratched. Sadiq could have filled books with it, far longer than the holy texts keeping them apart.

But Sadiq says none of that. Gupta was correct in what he said- he did speak too much sometimes. Now is not the time for that. He does not know how long they have, whether it be years or hours, but he does know it is not enough. An eternity with Gupta would not be enough.

So, he wastes not a second longer on useless words or worry. The only sound that remains are Gupta's soft sighs, fabric cascading to the floor and the dry winds outside. Sadiq's mind muddles. He is not sure what he says, if he even says anything, but he is certain he whispers at least once in the midst of this perfect, wonderful moment, unthinkingly in the dark: I love you.

There is no space between them now. Sadiq wishes, prays to a god he is not sure exists, that will last forever.


	7. Motel Ceiling - Giripan

_Spawned from the prompt: "I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified."_

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><p>It's almost dawn. Orange light filters through the window where darkness had been what feels like moments ago, casting heavy, threatening shadows over the room. It's something that should be beautiful. Kiku sees it as a mark of the end, as he always does.<p>

Heracles is awake, for once. He usually falls asleep right after the fact, or at least pretends to, while Kiku slips from the bed and into his normal, everyday clothes, back to his normal, everyday life, always before the sun rises. Except Kiku isn't doing that this time. The room is growing lighter by the minute, almost light enough to see the light hair of Heracles's chest and the green of his eyes, yet he feels frozen.

"You're still here," says Heracles, whispering as if he is afraid to be loud.

Kiku takes a moment to respond, perhaps because he is afraid to. "I am."

Heracles runs his hand over the space between them, as close to Kiku's arm as he can get without touching him. "May I ask why?"

Kiku wishes he had an answer. He doesn't. This started as experimentation, an escape, something to lose himself in when his reality became too much for him. He simply wanted to be kissed, touched, pleasured by a near stranger, then slip back into the respectable life he had built for himself as if nothing had happened, before the sun came up or he had a chance to think about it. Now he's thinking about it. And Kiku has never been good at stopping his thoughts after they had started.

"I am not really sure," says Kiku finally. It feels like a resignation. His chest seizes, his mind whirs, and he tries to distract himself. He stares as Heracles turns his head, and Kiku notices a dark splotch blooming on his shoulder - too large, too violent to be a love bite. Something similar is on his ribs, Kiku remembers. He certainly did not do any of that. He wonders why is matters, but without thinking, he asks, "What is that?"

"Oh." Heracles looks down, shrugs... the man always shrugs. It's as if nothing in this world affects him. But his voice isn't steady, and Kiku knows that isn't true. Somehow. "Not all of my clients are as gentle as you."

"Oh." Kiku feels something sympathetic and sickening wedge between his ribs, too forceful, too violent. He tries to speak again, hoping to remind himself of what this is. "How much do I owe you?"

A pause. "Nothing."

Kiku... does not like the sound of that. He sits up, taking the bedsheets with him, suddenly self conscience, sure to cover himself as if it makes any difference. "I beg your pardon?"

Heracles looks up, slowly. His sharp features catch the soon to be morning light, eyes glassy and soft instead of dark and hungry. He breathes evenly instead of panting. Heracles looks... too human. "I... Don't want your money, Kiku."

Kiku swallows. "Why? I have it, it is not an issue..."

"That's not it." Heracles takes a long breath, and then rolls onto his back, eyes fixed on the spinning motel fan. "I think I'm in love with you." He shrugs. "And I'm terrified." He says the words exactly like he had listed his rates a few months ago - flat, detached, empty.

"Oh." Kiku's throat is dry. His heart races. He knows, somewhere in the back of his tired, numbed, cluttered mind, that he had seen this coming. Somewhere even further back, he knew this is why he's still here. "I..."

"You do not have to say anything."

Kiku is not sure he can. He is not sure if he can breathe, or even move, and he certainly cannot summon the will to pull himself from this damn bed and back into his life. Instead, though it goes against every bit of sense he has left, he breaks the unspoken barrier between them and brushes his lips against the bruise.

Heracles let out a soft, almost surprised sigh. "Kiku? Did you want..."

"No." Kiku's voice shakes, just as his body does as he lowers himself to lay on Heracles's chest, the way a lover would. "I would just like to sleep."

"I have someone else to see..."

"No," says Kiku again, immediately. There's a chance whoever that is is the one responsible for those marks, and he refused to take that chance, refuses to move, even though the sun is nearly full in the sky. "I will pay whatever they would. Just... Sleep, please. You look so tired."

Heracles lets out a small sound, likely the beginning of a protest, but all that escapes is, "Okay." Then, again, "Okay."

Silence falls. Kiku can hear Heracles's shaking breath, feel his arms embrace him. He holds him as if he is afraid not to.

Kiku realizes, with a flash of terror, that the feeling is mutual.


End file.
